Dependency
by PetPetAngel
Summary: Roger can't believe how much he's let himself go how much he truly, honestly depends on Mark Cohen and how much he really doesn't want to. RogerMark slashy


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Dependency

Written by:

PetPetAngel

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"_Tell me all that you've thrown away,_

_Find out games you don't wanna play…_

_You are the only that needs to know,_

_I'll keep you my dirty little secret,_

_(Dirty little secret) _

_Don't tell anyone or you'll be just another regret…_

_(Just another regret, hope that you can keep it),_

_My dirty little secret…"_

- "Dirty Little Secret" – The All American Rejects

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Mark and he went back a long time. They were together as friends before Collins, Angel, Mimi, Maureen, everyone. They were one of the first tenants in the building, one of the first ones to pay rent, watching as everyone else moved in (Mimi was actually one of the last tenants) and watching as everyone's lives started changing, people moving out, people moving in.

He'd spent all his money on the heroin addiction Mark hadn't known about, shot his smack in the bathroom and been careful to hide everything from Mark. But Roger thought that, thinking back on it, maybe Mark had always known. And when he had been discovered by his knowledge – well, honestly, he hadn't cared. .

Until Mark told him to stop. Then he got very angry. He tried to hurt Mark, tried to make him take it back. Perhaps in his heart he had thought that what he was doing – trying to hurt Mark – was a bad thing, because Mark had been there for him, always, but he'd been a mindless junkie and he wanted his smack.

But he was taking away money and suddenly Roger remembered wishing that he hadn't moved in with Mark, because that was like taking Mark down with him. He felt guilty, and somehow, watching the young man wish for a future made him one day go to Mark and say, "Help me stop."

Roger had been surprised how easily Mark had accepted that request, giving the bruise he sported on his right cheek was courtesy of him. But still, the next hour, for it had been morning when he'd said it, Mark had him checked into a drug rehab program and had been trying to helping him get better.

Roger couldn't remember a lot of what happened during his rehab days, nor did he particularly want to. He remembered a lot of pain, but through it all he remembered somewhat lithe but strong arms around him, hold him close, stopping his struggles. He remembered brown eyes close to his face, whispers of nothing in his ears. He remembered a lot of nothing during his rehab days, but when it was done it was done and Roger didn't know how to thank the man who had helped him through it all.

He'd felt horrible that he'd become so dependant on Mark, but part of his heart loved the sense of security that he'd never gotten before with other girls, that part he loved and the more he loved it the more he couldn't help but pull away from Mark, because he was _not_ going to have the man say, "You owe me."

Roger was plenty content living in an apartment with Mark – the man was quiet, often soft spoken and content ignoring him or giving him whatever time he needed when he needed it. He listened to the chords he strummed, critiqued, and often, Roger found himself taking the advice, liking the piece more.

Roger was happy knowing that when it came down to it, Mark would be there for him no matter what. Somehow, knowing the man was someone he could always count on reassured him more than if it had been anyone else – Collins, Angel, Mimi, and so on. And while Roger had tried to stop it before it got that far, he knew he'd do anything for Mark as well.

He wasn't fond of depending on people, even Mimi couldn't change that. He'd felt almost guilty at first about needing Mark, how knowing that if anything happened to him, he'd take him much worse than anyone else in their little family would. Angel, who'd he'd been so fond of… Roger was beginning to think that if anything happened to Mark, he'd miss Mark than he missed Angel, not to speak ill of the dead.

Almost losing Mimi had changed the way Roger had thought. He'd told her more insistently than ever, "Go to rehab, end this," and when she did, Roger tried to be like Mark was to him. Though he knew he wasn't as patient as Mark was, he thought he'd done well.

But somehow, even with his ever growing relationship with Mimi, Roger still felt that dependency on Mark, that feeling in his stomach which could not separate from the other man completely. He hated thinking that he had learned to depend on Mark that much, but the more he thought about it, the more it was true.

And so Roger decided to challenge himself.

With a heavy heart and no explanation, Roger Davis left.

-

It felt horrible. He'd checked into a hotel about five hundred miles away, stopping for gas only when he'd almost run past the 'E' and with his thought process, the 'E' was incredibly hard to look at. The 'E' stood for 'Empty' – but nothing was as empty as his heart which shouldn't have been aching.

Hollow.

There was no reason he should've felt like that, but with a string of curses Roger swore that he would not leave until he dependency on Mark was over, finished, kaput and dead. He would _not_ have the man say, "You owe me." Roger never loaned and never borrowed – he'd learnt that the hard way from his junkie days.

Sitting in his room, the curtains drawn and just enough light to see by, Roger stared at the lyrics he'd been working on. The longer he stared at them, the angrier he became – and with a hopeless sigh he turned the page of his notebook rather harshly and tried to start from scratch. He couldn't scrap the idea – not all the hard work and sleepless nights.

He tried starting about twenty times – the page was used up before it even had a title and with another sigh, Roger turned the page, this time more calmly. For a moment he merely sat, closed his eyes and breathed in and out deeply. He had to gather his nerve back together.

But Roger's eyes flashed back open before he could even dream of finding a sense of peace. Brown eyes were there, and to his horror, the lines around them told him that they were certainly not Mimi's. He cringed horribly, setting his guitar down gently. No matter what horrible realization he could make, he was _not_ paying to fix that guitar. He'd already felt horrible enough – Mark had paid for the last repair.

With yet another rather hopeless sigh, Roger closed his notebook.

Minutes passed – Roger listened to the clock _tick_ _tock_ far too loudly for his liking. It sounded almost as though it right in his ears, and with a tick of his brow Roger shifted uncomfortably. As the clock ticked right to twelve-forty-two, he winced and reopened his notebook.

Leave Your Mark.

No part of that should've made him groan like it did, but before he could stop himself Roger leaned back and hit the wall with his head on intention, just wishing it had been a harder hit and he'd passed out. This was ridiculous, this was stupid, and… This was just plain _fucked up_. The camera man could _totally_ stay on his own.

But Roger couldn't think because he was already hollow again.

-

When Roger finished his song, he was more than dismayed to find that he hadn't found another title.

When he titled his song Leave Your Mark, he hadn't meant it to be about actually _leaving_ Mark, throwing him behind and moving ahead, because in the end Roger realized that was all he wanted to do. As he read the lyrics over for what could've been the fifty-thousandth time, he winced more and more as the song progress.

He couldn't do anything with this song.

He couldn't let Mark know he was angry.

No, Roger wasn't angry. He was fucking _pissed off._

He'd sworn to himself he would never depend on anyone like this, he'd sworn to himself that after his junkie days, he would stand up on his own, his chip up, shoulders squared and his chest out. But then again, in his junkie days he certainly hadn't thought things could _possibly_ get any worse, but that was a stupid thing to think. That was what you thought when you didn't know any better and you kept false hopes.

Roger sighed and shook his head. He had a headache the size of Texas and when he looked at the calendar he swore. He'd missed the life support meeting he had promised he'd make. It was the anniversary of the first he'd ever gone to. He'd promised Collins he'd be there for Angel.

Roger was sick of broke promises. He was sick of being disappointed in himself but most of all, he was sick of feeling needy.

-

When Roger came back to earth, he shouldn't have been so surprised that Collins – well, no, he didn't understand, but he could 'respect' Roger's need for 'some alone time'. Maureen and Joann hardly minded and Mimi got over it quickly enough, just glad he came back.

But Mark _understood_, he didn't 'respect', he _knew_ and he understood. Roger winced, still glad to see the man again.

Bringing him into his arms was like some sort of release that Roger hadn't even felt from kissing Mimi once more, and without realizing it, Roger held onto Mark a little bit longer than necessary. He was shocked when Mark said into his ear, "You know, that song you were working on… You might wanna actually think about doing something with it," and he quirked and eyebrow. "_I_ actually happen to like the title," and he grinned.

Roger shouldn't have been so surprised – he'd known this man for so long and been with him through so much, and yet he could still throw a damn good curveball.

And while nothing was put officially to rest, Roger could live with depending on Mark just a little bit more than before as long as he knew that inside, Mark depended on him at least a tiny bit like that too.


End file.
